


Mourning Someone You Never Knew

by mephydoggo



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied Alpha Terezi Pyrope/Alpha Karkat Vantas, Implied Dirk's Bro | Alpha Dave Strider/Alpha Karkat Vantas, Multi, Warning: Implied Previous Abuse, Warning: Occasional Cursing, dirk strider - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:34:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24042166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mephydoggo/pseuds/mephydoggo
Summary: Your name is David Strider, and it's been many years since you died. You often question why you're still here in the dreambubbles. It's pretty obvious there's nothing left for you to do. You very rarely see your honorary sister and partner in crime, Rosanne Lalonde, so most of your time is taken up by the trolls. You've spent more time than you'd like to admit with Karkat Vantas and Terezi Pyrope, and while you'd like to consider them friends, you're too paranoid they don't feel the same to say that. Even with them here, you're still missing something. Something that tugs at the back of your mind every waking moment; something that at the end of every day comes back to remind you of its presence, of how you failed...You miss Dirk. You've never met him, and yet your chest aches on the regular for him.You hate it, and you hate yourself for allowing it to get to you this badly.Of course, you've never told anyone how you feel.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Mourning Someone You Never Knew

At first, when you arrived in the dreambubbles, it wasn't so bad. Rose had told you that you'd never see your descendants, but she only mentioned that when you were both alive. While you searched around for your previous possessions, you kept an eye out for him always, just in case there was a dead version somewhere. That was how you first met the trolls. They were strange to you, and reminded you a little too much of the fish dictator )(erself, but you soon learned they weren't all evil clown associates with world domination on the brain. In fact, you tolerated, if not liked, most of them. You didn't trust the clown one, but that was a given, based on what you went through. They were entertaining enough for you, and you took a stronger liking to Vantas and Pyrope. Sure, they were a bit loud, and a bit unconventional, but they were genuinely fun to you. It was enough to keep you going. Soon, you had a fraction of your fortune worldy possessions collected. You'd seen Rosanne once or twice, which kept up your spirits considerably. The trolls made for good company, even if they were so different from you. What put you on edge was that you could never find the ghost of your brother no matter where or how hard you looked.

In year two hundred, you'd given up most hope of finding them. You spent most of your time with Vantas and Pyrope. Whenever the discussions of descendants came around you went silent. They definitely noticed, but never bothered to ask you, and you liked it that way. You'd find something to ramble about afterwards to convince them you were fine. You enjoyed all the shenanigans you three got up to, but you wished they'd stop bringing that up. Rosa hadn't been around either, which made you duly uncomfortable. You'd started to wonder how long you'll be here.

Two hundred more years later, you had given up all hope that you'd ever find Dirk. Your friends noticed that you'd become less energetic. They asked questions, which you promptly made jokes about and shrugged off. You wanted to convince them - and yourself - that you were okay, even though you obviously weren't. You couldn't control where your mind went anymore. When Rosanne tried to talk about Roxy to you, you snapped at her and ended up running off. You can still see her pained expression and how you pulsated with emotion if you try hard enough. Even on the best days, the most fun days, you'd stay up most of the night mumbling to yourself about your brother. It hurt. It hurt and you didn't know why. You were soon to find out.

You blamed yourself. Something had to have gone wrong. He hadn't shown up. Nothing had happened. It'd been seven hundred and fifty years with no sign of anything changing. You think you're going to crazy. If your friends didn't notice there was something wrong before, they definitely do now. They were worried for you. They gave you weird looks when they caught you breathing heavily, staring blankly at the floor. They asked how you were more frequently. Your growing affection for your two troll 'besties' couldn't distract you either. You became quiet, distanced. You'd zone out on conversations, which you started frequently deeming overwhelming despite never having issues before. You caught yourself wondering why you're bothering to go on, and how you're doing to continue. Whatever happened, you were sure it'd be just as stressful.

You stayed in that state for around a hundred and fifty hears, by your best guess. Time had become meaningless to you. Then slowly, you became less quiet and more obscene. Anyone who dared talk to you would pay the price. Even Rose was weary, for the few times she contacted you. You thought she'd figured you out, that she was going to try to tell you you weren't to blame, and you couldn't have that. You knew it had to be your fault. Your anger at anyone in your general vicinity forcefully isolated you for another hundred lonely years, where you were left to boil and brood with only your own thoughts for company. After a while you started asking yourself what you could've done to prevent this. Could you have left more food for Dirk? Was the apartment not enough space? Should you have left more things for him to do? You keep telling yourself there was something you didn't do right, and you decided that "something" was everything. You didn't know jack shit about kids and you still don't. Even if they successfully made it to Earth, they would have died of your negligence.

By year 941, you had nearly fully reentered into the social circles you used to float around in. There didn't see an end to the griping you got from Rosa, but you didn't mind. She'd stuck with you, though much, much less during your isolation. Pyrope and Vantas were wary of you, but you didn't have bad intentions, so they gradually accepted you back. As it turns out they had a little falling out of their own while you were gone; nothing too serious, but you noticed the bits of tension on occasion. It did seem like a stranger relationship between you three from then on, though. You found yourself a lot more... flustered, around them. At first you thought it was Pyrope. You were, however, mistaken. You couldn't bring yourself to say anything with Vantas clearly being more interested in her than he was in you. Besides, you were still rather mope-y. You didn't zone out anymore, but it was easy for people to tell your mind wasn't on the conversation most of the time.

Year 1002 was the first time you remember crying since you were young. You'd gotten yourself too worked up, and you paid for it in tears and rapid breaths. Thank God you were alone, or you'd never hear the end of it. You hated how weak you were, which only made you more bitter at yourself.  
You had convinced yourself that Dirk was, undeniably, dead. Rosanne's visions couldn't have been wrong ablut his arrival, yet nothing had changed, so the only conclusion you could come to was that he was deceased and ancestors like you weren't allowed to see their descendants here. It drove you up the fucking wall.  
Strangely enough, when you were alive, you considered adopting. You wanted to give a child a good life instead of an experience like yours. They wouldn't be scared of you or think they were never good enough. No, you'd've made sure of that. But with you moving around so much for work, it wouldn't be fair for a kid. You didn't think you had a long enough lifespan either. In hindsight, no one did. You were heartbroken that you'd never get to see Dirk, but you found solace in that he'd never have to deal with all the government takeover and pre-apocalypse shit you did.  
But you were desprate, in year 1002. You started imagining what he'd look like. Blonde hair like yours, maybe, but sharper-looking where yours was soft. His skin would be darker though, not as ungodly pale as you. He'd wear his cool pointy shades, but every now and then you would be able to glimpse bright eyes looking at you from behind them. You weren't sure what color. Yellow? Yes, yellow would be fine, or maybe a lighter red than what you had. Some warm color, you were sure.  
You daydreamed of a domestic life with him. When he was very little, his tiny soft fingers would latch around one of yours to get your attention. He'd tug at your ties and play with them when you held him. You'd fall asleep in the recliner with him nestled in your side. He would make all sorts of vocal noises, and you'd play along, talking back to him like he'd really said something. The first time he walked you'd smile brightly, beaming with pride - because that was your little bro, and he was going to grow up just fine. Then when he got to be four, it'd be his first day of Pre-K, and you were much more sad to see him go than he was to leave. He'd be smarter than you were at his age, curious and brimming with questions, always on the ready to get his hands on something new and interesting. You'd come pick him up, and he'd tell you all about his day on the way home: his friends, his teachers, all the colorful things around the classrooms... and you'd be the one quietly listening for once, because he was your world, and you wouldn't rather hear anything else. Then you'd surprise him with a movie and popcorn when you got home, and snuggle on the couch together in the dark to watch it.  
The fantasies were what motivated you to keep going, but one day, it all came crashing down on you. You realized you'd never have those things, not that you deserved them in the first place, nor would you ever get a chance to make up for them. Hell, he probably never knew his first word. You failed. You let your baby brother die.  
It was then that you cried.

You spent another undignifiable amount of time holing yourself up and claiming you were fine. No, you weren't fine. You were a monster. You were alone. You were anything but fine. You spent much more time on the recovery game then, searching for your lost possessions and currency.

Slowly it became just a little easier to cope with. You never had a good image of yourself in the first place, which likely helped. You still meandered into daydreams occasionally, but they started falling apart in your hands like dry sand. You were beginning to understand they weren't real and wouldn't ever be. Sure, it hurt. It hurt a lot. You snapped at Rose that he was dead if she dared bring it up. Anyone who had the foolishness to begin to say a word that sounded like his name would have the same result. But you were coming back to reality, and you hoped that meant you could be yourself again.

By year 1500, you thought you were okay. It was still an open wound no matter how hard you tried, though. You longed for his presence regardless that you knew good and well it'd never happen. Everyone seemed more comfortable around you now, and they didn't ask as many questions, so you took it as a sign that you were doing better. That, or they'd gotten used to your bullshit. Either way, you were glad to be closer to yourself again.

Even if you knew you couldn't really be yourself without him.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Ao3 post, I hope it's okay! (Just in case- yes, I know the canon wait was 400 years. What essentially happened is, the kids + trolls beat the game, and the dreambubble folk weren't aware of it. Time just kept chugging on regardless, and they were left in the dark, so to speak.)  
> Comments are appreciated, I'd love to see what people think.


End file.
